I was watching the severed heads of roses fall one by one in my Grandmother’s basket when I asked her why it was she had to prune them back so viciously. She looked up at me, put down her pruning scissors and took my hand, walking with me to the woods that crawled hesitantly but certainly up to the back of her home.

Grandma pointed out the wild roses which smelled so sweet, and said “No one waters these roses, nor feeds them, nor cares much about them at all; yet they still thrive.”

“Lydia, wild roses need neglect to thrive, and the roses I raise need cruelty to survive.”

My Mum’s approach was much different. She too wanted rosebushes that bloomed as profusely and smelled as sweet as my Grandmothers roses, so she started her own. Mum talked to them, mulched them, watered them daily, and in every conceivable way gave them the care only a less hardy plant would need.

Her rosebushes never bloomed, despite her daily and loving care.

Mum and my Father separated later that year; I was quite happy with this development, as my father was often to be found either beating my Mum, or out at all hours while she waited at home, worrying about his safety.

Father stayed in our childhood home while Mum moved to a tiny apartment in our nearby town.

During the following year they stayed apart, my Father did not look after the roses; he never watered them, nor lavished them with love, caring, mulch, or any of the other daily habits my mother had made during her time with them.

Mum eventually moved back into our home while Father moved to his own place near where the “action” was; though what action a town of about 13,000 people can hold, I don’t know; as I’m sure you’ll understand, I didn’t make a pretense at caring, either.

I visited Mum shortly after she had moved back in our childhood home, and as she ushered me out the door to show me around, she stopped by the rosebush she had dedicated so much time to in the past.

I stared in shock; the lovely, delicate scent danced through my nose as my Mum looked on proudly. The profusion of blooms beat anything I’d ever seen at my Grandmothers, and while my Mum chatted on at her ease, I thought about how much her life had changed since she left my Father and her roses.

A little bit of cleaning goes a long way to make our lives more enjoyable; has it ever occurred to you that you need to do some fall tidying on yourself as well as your home?

The first step in changing what might not enhance or enrich your life is figuring out if you are a doormat, rug cleaner, or a picture; only after recognizing yourself in one category can you take a step back and either accept which category you fall into, or decide you are going to change categories, making your life as sparkling as you would your home.

A doormat is useful. It saves a regular rug cleaning by absorbing all the dirt, grit, and nasty that might be tracked in onto your valuable carpet, and it saves you time in the doing. A doormat person gives all, and receives nothing; after their usefulness wears out, they are often thrown out, just as one might do when their doormat has absorbed all the filth it can. For this reason, you need to take a long, hard look at just how much time and effort you give to others, and how much they give back to you. The penalty for giving all to others is that you won’t have time or effort left to give to yourself.

A rug cleaner is there for those moments when the doormat has been temporarily retired or rendered useless by the mob of children who just came in mud splattered and laughing, grabbing up their highly stainable juice which then gets dumped on your rug. It is at this point (after cries of horror and redirection of said monstrous children) that you pull out your rug cleaner to get all those worrisome spots out. A rug cleaner person is there for you in times of need, but has the wisdom and foresight to come in when help is truly needed, rather than the doormat who just gives and gives because it knows no other way. If you are a rug cleaner, you are wise. But that wisdom is limited by the fact that rug cleaners tend to isolate themselves a bit; only coming forward in times of need. Your hoover is more sociable. It gets taken out and run around the room more often than your rug cleaner… but even a rug cleaner needs it’s time to circulate out and about in the room.

A picture sits there. It is pretty to look at, at times even commented on with delight. But it gives nothing, and takes some polishing and dusting to remain picture perfect. So it is with a picture person.

In this case, a picture really is worth a thousand words.

Not one of them is good.

Are you a Doormat, Rug Cleaner, or Picture? was last modified: November 15th, 2010 by Lydia

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My VividLife: South Africa

Shayne Traviss

Sometime's growth involves digging up the dirt and planting anew...
After over 20 years of marketing, promoting and producing others I've decided to open a new chapter in my life.
If you long to go higher, live a life 'all in' join me as I dive in deep sharing my life experiences, travels and inspirations for living a VividLife.

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Founded by Shayne Traviss formerly VividLife.me was an online resource for personal growth through over 10,000 blogs, audio conversations and videos, from thought leaders, best-selling authors and wellness experts from around the globe. VividLife.me provided engaging conversations on consciousness and human potential with Arianna Huffington, Jane Fonda and Alanis Morrissette, wisdom packed blogs from spiritual Icons Iyanla Vanzant and Ram Dass, Green Tips from David Suzuki’s Queen of Green, Advice from Award Winning Parenting and Relationships Experts, Recipes from Vegetarian, Vegan, Raw Chef’s and more… and reached and inspired over 3 million people around the globe.
However sometime's growth involves digging up the dirt and planting anew...
And after over 20 years of marketing, promoting and producing others Shayne Traviss decided to open a new chapter in his life.
If you long to go higher, live a life 'all in' join him as he dives in deep sharing his life experiences, travels and inspirations for living a VividLife.